


Reminders

by Miah_Arthur



Series: Miah's Whumptober 2019 [3]
Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Angst, Friendship, Gen, Hell, Hurt Lucifer Morningstar (Lucifer TV), Pining, Post-Season/Series 04, Self-Sacrifice, Serious Injuries, Whumptober 2019
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-03
Updated: 2019-10-03
Packaged: 2020-11-22 18:51:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20879012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miah_Arthur/pseuds/Miah_Arthur
Summary: A moment's concentration pushed enough power into the device to allow him to turn it on. Hell didn’t have cell service, of course, but this phone didn’t need a signal—it had something better.





	Reminders

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to Wollfgang for beta reading this little fic for me. 
> 
> Whumptober 2019 #1 Shaking Hands

****

# Reminders

****

His hands shook. 

They've been shaking for so long now. How long had it taken him to drag his body into this crevice? Days? Weeks? Months? He wasn't dead. Couldn't let himself die. Even like this, Hell knew of his presence. As long as he lived, Creation was safe. 

That was the deal. 

Starving, useless, sick—maybe—but present. That's all the hordes cared about, right? 

His sides ache; his throat raw.

He tired of everything, the coughing wore on his body and patience. But it kept him awake. Kept his head and ribs burning. Would probably roil his stomach if he could feel it. He pressed on the crevice walls, dragging his body upright. He untangled his legs and sagged against the rough support. The stone pressing against his back, ignited an inferno of pain. 

Tingling jolts lit up the dead parts of his body. His feet and legs would shake like his hands as the severed nerves knit themselves back together and faulty signals slipped through. Eventually the damage would be repaired enough to allow him control and strength, but for now they crumple numb and useless.

He had little enough divine energy. He should be hoarding it. Using it to heal, but there wasn't enough. Never enough to heal entirely. Hell drained him, a constant drag on his divinity sucking him dry, trying to make up for the centuries that passed here while he reveled on earth.

He coughed again and rubbed at his sternum.

His fingers fumbled in his pocket and finally grasped the precious object he'd been searching for. He pulled it free and grasped it with both hands. The screen danced as his hands shook even more violently at the thought of dropping the cell phone.

A moment's concentration pushed enough power into the device to allow him to turn it on. Hell didn’t have cell service, of course, but this phone didn’t need a signal—it had something better. 

His finger trembled as he reached for the gallery icon. He waited for the right moment when the oscillations lined up with the icon and he tapped it. A smirk formed. He'd gotten good at this game. The gallery opened revealing the last picture he'd taken.

Linda smiled up at him, holding Charlie securely in her arms. Amenadiel stood to the side, gazing at the infant like it was the most important thing in the universe. He coughed away from the screen. He had nothing clean enough to get the blood flecks off the screen without smearing it worse if he let them land on it.

He flicked through the pictures. So many photos of the Detective, of Chloe. Ella in her killer dress in Vegas. Daniel eating pudding. The two of them huddled together over the evidence table. Trixie. The spawn had wormed her way into his heart. Places he'd been, people he'd seen, all of them reminders. Reminders of why he persevered, why he could never give up. 

The last photo he stopped on was Maze. Humanity reminded him why he stayed. In Hell. Alive. The picture wavered until he could hardly make out his demon's features. If she were here, he wouldn't be huddled in a corner, weak, starving. He wouldn't be holding on merely not dying. He must live. 

He'd never survived Hell without her before, but he could never take her from the family she'd forged. He wouldn't condemn her with his sacrifice. 

The screen blinked out, the celestial energy he'd fed it now depleted. Very carefully he slid the phone back into his pocket. Someday he'd be healed enough to walk out of this hole. Find fuel to feed the wrath the demons who carved his wings from his back deserved. Someday he'd reclaim them. Someday he'd fly through the gates again, if only for a moment. 

He held no hope that his humans would still be alive when someday finally came, but he had his reminders, and he'd find his Maze again.


End file.
